Angelic
by Nolaquen265
Summary: It's strange.  I never noticed how the sun glints off the coppery tones in her hair.  But it does, and the only word I can think of to describe the effect is 'angelic.'  Rukato drabble.


Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon. Toei does.

XxXxX

It's strange. I never noticed how the sun glints off the coppery tones in her hair. But it does, and the only word I can think of to describe the effect is _'angelic.'_

She's surrounded by a nimbus of warm, golden radiance. It seems to soften her face…and her eyes. Sometimes, they're chips of cold amethysts. Now, they're sparkling pools of joyful light. It's a transformation that I've only seen glimpses of before.

And now it's holding me captive.

I don't know why she was walking in the park by herself. And I don't know why she looked so glad to see me, of all people. But for now, I'm just grateful for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity: to see this side of her that she hides from everyone else.

The tiniest splash of cold water on my face jerks me back to reality—that's when I realize that I've been staring. But she hasn't seemed to notice; instead, she's looking up at the sky with a slight frown, which casts something like a translucent veil over that smiling beauty.

Oh. It's starting to rain.

We share a glance—and those eyes threaten to draw me in and never let me free—and we jog up the path, seeking shelter from the summer storm. At first, my mind jumps to a certain concrete hut not too far from here, but she pulls me beneath a sakura tree. We're still being dripped on, but there's something about the scene that holds me like a magnet. It feels so _right_ standing with her in the rain like this.

Maybe I'm crazy.

It then occurs to me that it's pretty quiet, and that my thoughts are focused only on the present. In the silence, broken only by the steady rhythm of the falling rain, my mind's eye is in perfect harmony with my body's eyes. My mind is accentuating, coloring, savoring every little detail of the rain's gentle chill, of the trees' sweet smells, of the sensation of my damp clothes clinging to me…

…and of her, standing there, looking at me with an expression I can't place for the life of me.

I stare into her face, unsure. What happens next?

Then, my eyes fall to her lips. They're pale pink; unblemished by lipstick or any other trapping that so many girls fall prey to, lose themselves in. Not her.

I can't break away my gaze; it's held in unbreakable shackles, forged by the soaring, blazing sensation that's rising in my chest and clouding my thoughts. Those gentle curves are all I can see, all I can think about…

…they're perfect. Just like her.

And then, I realize that I can't see those lips anymore. Because…my eyes are closed. And, even if they _were_ open…I'd be looking straight into _her_ eyes, now.

In an instant frozen in time, my mind struggles to catch up. I slowly realize that I'm standing much closer to her than I was before…and that my hand is pressed lightly to her cheek. That means…

…that I am either about to die…or gain a treasure I'd never recognized before.

You know…the former wouldn't be so bad, if this was the last thing I felt.

The stiffening of her body, and of those soft, warm lips, brings me back to reality. For an instant, I consider drawing back. But then, she relaxes, and her arms slowly find their way around my neck. The kiss—because that's what it is, and I'm still finding it hard to believe—is deepened…and it's _her_ who's deepening it.

We stand beneath the boughs of the cherry tree, lost to the world. Time slows to a crawl, and we stand there for hours…or so it seems. When we finally part, she tilts her head, looking me right in the eyes with that same expression as before. But now, there's a small smile lurking on her face, and behind her eyes.

She chuckles, and comments, while stroking the back of my neck with a hand, "You're such a gogglehead." Then she leans back in, and the raindrops almost seem to stop in their descent to the earth.

It's then I realize…that if she's an angel…then I'm in heaven.

XxXxX

A/N: This is just a little something I felt compelled to do. I don't know what exactly put this scene in my mind, but hey. Painters paint, composers compose, and writers…write.


End file.
